


aneth ara, ma sa'lath

by pancakesandplaid



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M!Mahariel/Zevran, M/M, m!Mahariel/Tamlen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakesandplaid/pseuds/pancakesandplaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been a week since Bilbo left his clan to join in on an adventure (quest) with the durgen’len and two days since they went through the entrance leading to the Deep Roads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	aneth ara, ma sa'lath

**Author's Note:**

> Bilbo is a Dalish elf. The dwarves are dwarves.
> 
> If you don’t know Dragon Age, I’ve tried to explain everything that’s relevant. Anything more can be found on the Dragon Age wikia. 
> 
> There is no conflict between dwarves and elves: any ire will be aimed at humans in accordance to dragon age lore.

“It’s safe enough to make camp now,” Dwalin grunted to Thorin, the leader of the company of dwarves, when he returned. Orders were then sent out for the company to set up camp.

“I’ll help Nori with the traps,” Bilbo quickly ran off to join said dwarf.

It has been a week since Bilbo left his clan to join in on an adventure (quest) with the _durgen’len_ and two days since they went through the entrance leading to the Deep Roads.

He did enjoy being on an adventure of sorts, even if it led him deep down into the ground full of Darkspawn, even if he missed his clan terribly. But Bilbo remembered that he had a friend who had no choice but to leave and thought that perhaps he should think of a way to get through this adventure.

“Hey, don’t snag yourself,” Nori held onto Bilbo’s wrist to prevent him from doing so.

“Oh, _ma serannas_ ,” Bilbo hastily set his last trap up properly.

“Don’t speak elvish, but I’ll assume that’s a thank you,” the thief smirked. “What’s got you distracted anyway?”

“Just... thinking on this adventure. I've always been with my kin before.”

“You'll be alright.” Nori pat Bilbo on the back and they walked back to the camp without another word.

 

* * *

 

“Mahariel,” Bilbo asked one day. “If we do get to go on an adventure on our own, where shall we go?”

“The mountains? And maybe not the human cities,” his friend grinned. “But I do hope to see one from afar at least. I heard they build houses taller than the trees of the old forests.”

“Don’t let Tamlen hear that. He’d think that you fancy humans!” Bilbo chuckled. “Speaking of Tamlen, you haven't  _made a move_ yet, have you?”

“Bilbo,” Mahariel elbowed him, exasperated. “You know he only ever _likes_ girls.”

“You could still tell him. I’m going to get sick the next time you look to the sky and say that it’s the same shade as Tamlen’s eyes.”

“I don’t _say_ that!”

Bilbo laughed harder, escaping from Mahariel’s wrath by climbing up onto another branch.

 

* * *

 

The elf got to know a bit more of each member of the company as the days passed.

The three brothers, Dori, Nori and Ori came from Orzammar; Dori and Nori had brands on their faces which marked them as casteless. Ori did not have the same mark for he was born after Dori helped their mother to get to the surface, where dwarven rule did not apply. Dori had then made his living as a merchant, but Nori stuck to his roguish thieving ways from his casteless life.

When Bilbo voiced that he did not understand, he learnt that with the caste system, the sons follow their fathers’ castes, the daughters of their mothers’. Their father was a casteless man whom their noble mother had fallen for, but when the couple had failed to produce daughters, she was left casteless as well, evicted by her own family.

Bofur, Bombur and Bifur’s family were from the Miner Caste. After an axe was embedded in his skull, Bifur joined the Legion of the Dead as he could not resume his job as a miner.

The Legion was an independent branch of the dwarven army; they accepted anyone from any level of the caste system to fight off the Darkspawn. This was where it got confusing for Bilbo.

“Bifur’s _officially_ dead?”

“To the law, aye,” Bofur said, oddly merry about it all. “Had a funeral and all. Still lives and breathes, but in the eyes of everyone else he’s already dead.”

Those of the Legion were not allowed back from the Deep Roads. In fact, it was there that Bofur had found Bifur, who had been injured and left behind by the Legion.

“I was runnin' an errand, was rushin' about, but I saw 'im and knew it was my cousin with just a look. I thought to myself, family first. Didn’t care about whatever rules I had to answer to.”

The admission made Bilbo smile.

Bombur was a cook for his own family and at the tavern, working whenever Bofur was out to do his mining. He stopped going to the tavern after Bofur managed to bring Bifur back home in secret, caring for him ever since.

The rest of the company came from the thaig that they were currently searching for. Erebor had been lost to a High Dragon and her dragonlings, forcing all the dwarves to evacuate. They were also all related under House Durin, including Thorin who was for now King-in-Exile until he reclaimed his throne again.

“Erebor folk are different from Orzammar,” Bofur said. “Thorin wouldn’t have let us in on the quest otherwise.”

Bilbo was about to raise the point that Thorin could not possibly had much a choice.

“I know what you’re gonna say - but really, Orzammar folk can be pretty stuck up in the ass about the caste system and tradition and all. Won’t have anything to do with casteless unless they can stick ‘em in a hole afterwards and leave 'em to die.”

“I’m not certain I’ll ever understand this caste system of yours,” Bilbo admitted.

“How’s it like for the Dalish elves then? Thought everyone had some variation of the system. Even humans have it, what with their rich upper class and then the poor people and all.”

Bilbo frowned at the mention of humans, but continued on.

“Everyone’s a part of the clan. Everyone has their role to do. If not to hunt, then to craft. If not craft, then something else. If you are not teaching, you are learning. We are all a family. We are all kin. Sometimes we squabble between ourselves, but we always remember that.”

Some of the dwarves seemed to be listening in on their conversation as they walked. Bilbo did not mind.

“Even though we are never stay in one place, at least we have each other. I have no place to call home, but I have the family to.”

“You miss your clan."

The smile on Bilbo’s face was melancholic.

 

* * *

 

Keeper Marethari had suddenly called for the aravel to stop. When Bilbo went to check, the Keeper was speaking to a _durgen’len._

"Our people were friends long ago," the leader of the group of _durgen’len_ had said. He was a head shorter than the Keeper, but with the way he held himself, he could be as tall as the mountains themselves. "There are injured amongst us. We will trade supplies and we will be off - more than that we will not ask."

"It has been long since the last time the _durgen'len_ of Erebor has spoken to us," Keeper Marethari spoke serenely. " _Ir abelas_. I remember Erebor's fall. Come, let me look at you."

An older dwarf held the leader back with a faint no, but the dwarf stepped forward, still.

"You have seen much. The road you have walked has been harsh and fills your heart with sorrow. Take care that it does not consume you."

The dwarf looked away, his strong mask falling for a moment.

 

* * *

 

An arrow lodged itself into the ogre's eye. Bilbo shot another so that the ogre would fall _backwards_ and not forwards onto Thorin.

Thorin stood up, grunting slightly in pain. His eyes met Bilbo's and he bowed his head slightly in thanks.

A smile spread rapidly across Bilbo’s face.

It seemed that the chamber they were in had rooms to the side, so they went to see if there was a place for the injured to rest.

They found that and more-- there was a hoard of supplies and other trinkets in one of those rooms.

"This is not of dwarven design," Thorin said slowly, raising up a sword. As he pulled it out of its sheathe, his eyes widened. "Nor could it have been made by men."

At this, Bilbo's attention was caught. He moved over to Thorin's side and frowned.

"But elves have no use for metal," Bilbo said, confused. "And the elves of old all had magic. They would not have needed swords."

The blade in itself was a mystery. But even to the untrained eye, one could tell it was indeed a finely made blade. And so Thorin took it for his own.

When the dwarves set up camp to rest, Bilbo found a dagger for his own, of a similar make to Thorin’s.

That night, he dreamt of the elves of old speaking with long forgotten words to their _durgen’len_ friends.

 

* * *

 

The clan had set up camp again to tend to their new guests, even though the plan was to travel further north to the Free Marches.

It took less than a month for most of the _durgen'len_ to heal from their injuries, with ample of help from the Keeper's magic, as well as her First.

"I thank you for your aid," Thorin bowed slightly, truly grateful. "I know not how we can repay you."

"I have a favour to ask of you," Keeper Marethari said evenly, "Take Bilbo with you. Do this and I consider it repayment enough."

Thorin was startled at the offer, but not so much as Bilbo, who nearly dropped his armful of Master Ilen's craftwork.

"K-keeper?"

"You have always yearned to venture outside the clan, _da'len_. You, Mahariel and Tamlen," she said, voice laced with sorrow upon mentioning the last two names. "Tamlen is gone and Mahariel's fate leads him away from us. This is your chance to go."

Bilbo wept as he remembered his dear friends. With a nod, he collected himself and went to say his goodbyes.

 

* * *

 

A few more days passed and a friendship had begun to form between Bilbo and Thorin, though Bilbo had to constantly prove himself for it.

“Don’t worry about Uncle,” Kili chirped. “Being sour and dour is his daily routine.”

Bilbo and Kili had bonded over the fact that they both favoured ranged weapons, bantering often over their favourite type of bows. When Bilbo jested that Kili was too short to wield the longbow, the dwarf had stuck out his tongue in reply.

Kili and his older brother Fili were Thorin’s heirs to the throne. Which reminded him...

“Kili, you are Thorin’s sister-sons, yes? If dwarves follow the caste of their same-sex parent, then...”

“Oh, Erebor had a different system,” Fili replied as he settled in next to his brother.  "Of all the thaigs, Erebor was more isolated from the rest of the dwarves. We also were more open about trading with the surface than Orzammar. Far more practical, if you will."

Erebor was not so strict about its caste system as Orzammar was, but still strict, nevertheless. It seemed that Erebor was run by a monarchy instead of Orzammar's election system.

"No point in electing," Fili paused to smoke, "If everyone is just going to kill each other for power anyway."

The topic turned to one with far less about killing for power. The dwarves started speaking of the best craftsmen they knew. Fili and Kili spoke highly of Thorin's own skill with smithing, which made the King shake his head fondly at his nephews.

Bilbo then spoke of Master Ilen’s legendary skill with woodcrafting, renowned as one of the best crafters amongst the People.

“Wood? What an unnatural craft,” Dwalin snorted, as the rest of the company nodded in agreement. “Best be using metal.”

Bilbo laughed. Dwarves would be dwarves, it seemed.

 

 

“We are not going in circles again, are we?” Bilbo teased, laughing when Thorin grunted.

“That was just the once.”

“Once? More like circling nine times around the same area.”

Bilbo walked carefully, ensuring that his bare feet did not step on any of the sharper rocks laying about. Thorin muttered something about elves and continued marching on.

They were a few hours away from the supposed secret door. It would be the only other entrance into Erebor, it being as isolated as it were.

“Let’s move further down. Too much lyrium on these walls,” Thorin commanded.

There was an odd sort of eerie beauty to seeing the lyrium veins along the walls of the tunnel they were in. They glowed blue - _“Red’s the one you don’t want to step close to,” Balin had warned_ \- and provided enough light that they did not need to carry torches through their way down the Roads.

Bilbo’s eyes were automatically drawn whenever Thorin turned just so that the glow of the lyrium illuminated the profile of his face and the colour of his eyes.

The colour of the sky’s own blue.

He remembered words spoken long ago and blushed, thankful that the lighting also meant that his own red cheeks would be hidden.

Maybe he should not have teased Mahariel those years ago.

 

 

The entrance, as it turned out, had the narrowest stairs up. As his elvhen stature made him the lightest of foot and stealthiest of the company, Bilbo made his way up into the entrance first.

He was held back for a moment by a strong grip on his elbow.

“Be careful,” Thorin said quietly, before turning his attention back to commandeering the rest of the dwarves.

 

 

Fighting a high dragon was something that Bilbo would happily not experience again.

Even with their group of experienced warriors, a high dragon was nothing to laugh about. This one in particular was particularly vicious, using her massive wingspan to her advantage.

Thorin, despite facing off such a terrible foe, led his company bravely. Perhaps it was an odd word to describe the dwarf, but seeing him in the midst of battle, fighting with such skill and passion -- Bilbo thought that he had not seen a more beautifully enchanting sight.

The battle only ended when Thorin jumped off Dwalin’s back to slash through the dragon’s throat. She recoiled and immediately Bilbo drew his bow and shot an arrow right into her left breast.

The company cheered and dealt with the rest of the dragon hoard swiftly.

 

 

 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Fili and Kili cried out, eyes wide and pleading.

“I’m going to the surface for a while. If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m not a dwarf,” Bilbo said, twitching his pointy ears as emphasis. “We elves are very close to the earth, but we don’t enjoy being below it so much.”

Weeks had passed after the clearing of dragons from the thaig. Most parts still smelt like dragon’s manure, but at least the threat was no longer there. Bilbo himself helped out quite a bit with the clearing of things, adventuring around much of the thaig on his own, but he found himself missing the feel of the sun on his skin, the feel of grass beneath his feet and the smell of the old forests.

It is, however, not the only reason why he wished to go to the surface.

Thorin was to be King of Erebor, after all. A non-dwarf joining the ranks of dwarves was simply unheard of. Dwarf-other relationships were not unheard of, per se, but those were mostly surface dwarves and if there was one thing in common between the dwarves and the Dalish, it was that both kept to their own kind in such matters.

Bilbo had thought to distract himself with his love for adventuring. Then perhaps he could pretend there was no ache in his chest, making it easier to adore his friend from a distance.

 _Foolish elf_ , he thought sadly, _you know you have more than adoration and admiration for him._

“Alright then,” Fili said, though he seemed unbelieving of Bilbo’s reasons. “But do visit once we’re all ready. There are those of Durin’s Folk who wish to return to their homes, by the time you come to us again we will be great once more.”

With directions given to him by Balin, who gazed at him critically before telling him the way out, Bilbo made his way for his heart to heal.

 

* * *

 

“Your chance has passed,” Balin sighed.

Thorin looked up from where he had been writing out plans, head tilting slightly as he creased his brows.

“You hide your feelings well, but Dwalin and I have known you for long, Thorin.”

“The elf left?” Dwalin asked, taking a guess at what Balin meant to say.

Balin nodded. Thorin closed his eyes and set his pen down.

“Was wonderin’ why he didn’t leave sooner. Or why _you_ didn’t go to tell him at all,” Dwalin said flatly.

“You know our ways, brother,” Balin frowned.

Dwalin raised a brow. This was an old fight between them, for Dwalin thought there was little point of keeping to a tradition that was no longer effective.

"You could go find him now. Lad can't have gone too far."

"Thorin cannot risk being seen on the surface again, a Dwarf lord willingly going there is unheard of-'

“Leave me,” Thorin interrupted, his voice heavy.

Balin bowed and left.

"If you don't get your hairy ass movin' soon, you're an idiot," Dwalin said, before joining his brother.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo went to visit the sister-clan residing in a clearing within the Brecilian Forest. He was very much surprised to hear that the Dalish were preparing for war.

“Mahariel called to us for aid,” Keeper Lanaya said. “We have sent our best hunters to him.”

So he learnt of a little of what his good friend had done in his fight against the Blight, which happened only when Darkspawn had an archdemon leading them. the Grey Wardens were an order that had always led the armies against the Blights whenever it happened, but only two Wardens were what remained of the order he had joined.

“I will join the hunters,” Bilbo replied immediately.

“ _Ma nuvenin_. You are welcome to take what supplies you need.” Lanaya nodded, smiling. “ _Dareth shiral_.”

“ _Ma serannas_.”

 

 

Bilbo reached Denerim the day before when the big battle would take place.

So did another group.

"We are the dwarves of Erebor," Thorin said. Behind him was Dwalin, Nori, Gloin and other dwarves that Bilbo did not recognise. "We are here to provide aid against the Blight."

He smiled when his eyes met with Thorin’s impossibly blue ones.

 

 

The dwarves were prepared to return to Erebor after the war, but Bilbo insisted to stay to see the Hero of Ferelden.

“He is a brother to me,” Bilbo said firmly.  

He saw Ashalle, who had taken care of both he and Mahariel as children. By her face, she was evidently surprised to see him, but welcomed him to stand by his side as they watched the human Queen address Mahariel.

Of Mahariel, she asked of a boon he wanted. He asked for land for the Dalish, which was readily granted.

Ashalle let out a gasp, her eyes welling up with tears. _We have a home now._ It was an odd word to think of.

“Ashalle!”

Mahariel laughed, reaching forward to embrace her, but in that action he saw Bilbo too. So the three of them then held each other tightly.

“You came,” Mahariel sounded as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Of course we did, _da’len_ ,” Ashalle said. She spoke excitedly about the prospect of _having a house, can you imagine that,_ of how the clan was proud of him.

“I had an adventure of my own,” Bilbo started to say, but stopped when he saw a blonde elf gazing at Mahariel from afar.

“Someone is waiting for you. Go enjoy yourself, _lethallin_. We can speak later,” Bilbo grinned widely when Mahariel followed his line of sight and had the tenderest look on his face.

“You have someone waiting for you too,” Mahariel elbowed Bilbo, winking before running off to his lover.

 

Thorin was watching the elves from a distance, though he looked away sheepishly when Bilbo caught him at it.

Bilbo made his way over to Thorin.

“Your people have a place to call home now. Like ours,” Thorin looked up at Bilbo, continuing to speak with a quieter voice. “Will you go with them?”

“I will go home,” was the answer.

Thorin nodded respectfully and left before Bilbo could say more.

 

 

Thorin would not think on it much more than he should. He could not fault Bilbo for wishing to return to his kin.

Dwalin and the rest had already returned to Erebor. He will have much time to think on his lonely travel home.

With his items packed, he left the city at first light.

  
Only to be greeted by an elf at the gates.

“ _Aneth ara, ma sa’lath_ ,” Bilbo laughed. “Let us go home.”

In his shock, Thorin could not think of a reply. Bilbo took this to his advantage and leant down to plant a kiss on Thorin’s lips, chortling when red bloomed across the dwarf’s cheeks.

“Yes,” Thorin said as evenly as he could, even as the elf stood closer and wrapped his slender hands in the dwarf’s large ones. “Let’s go home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> First time managing to write longer! And sorry for the onslaught of DA lore. I try to make it so that non-DA fans might still understand.
> 
> \- Orcrist is not called Orcrist because there are no Orcs. It is now a nameless, _possibly_ elvish artifact. Along with Sting.  
>  \- Bilbo is now a head taller than Thorin. Think on it.  
> \- in Dragon Age the worst of the racism is between elves and humans. Humans have taken the homeland of the elves away from them twice. Elves being slaves has lasted for centuries and to the belief of the elves they lost their immortality and their magic due to living close to the humans and then due to the slavery.>  
> \- Dwarves are isolationist, but I've decided to put in Erebor and Dale's (see what I did) relation into it. Assume that Erebor in DA context is "the lonely thaig" of a sort.  
> \- I needed to bend the caste system for Erebor for Fili and Kili to remain Thorin's heirs.  
> \- That said, Erebor goes by the monarchy rather than Orzammar's election system.  
> \- I did not want to include Mahariel as much as I did, but with my decision to make Bilbo a part of his clan it seemed appropriate.
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:
> 
> aneth ara, ma sa'lath: hello, my one love  
> durgen'len: children of the stone (dwarves)  
> ma serannas: thank you  
> ir abelas: i am sorry/i am filled with sorrow  
> ma nuvenin: as you wish  
> aravel: landships used by the Dalish  
> da'len: term of endearment meaning "little child".  
> lethallin: something akin to "clans-mate".


End file.
